Friday, February 16, 2018

Just a few bullet items this morning--I have a FULL DAY AT HOME so I'm planning to hunker down and plot the heebie-jeebies outta this story of mine.

This. It looks all organized, doesn't it? But when I started moving some Post-It notes around, THEY DECIDED THEY DIDN'T WANT TO STICK ANYMORE. If you ever wondered whether it were possible to RAGE against tiny, fluttering bits of paper, I am here to tell you OMG YES.

I ended up having to use pieces of tape. Which kind of defeats the purpose of a Post-It note.

But I digress. HERE ARE THE THINGS:

THING ONE: Because I blog here less frequently than I used to and because I'm moving my focus to my author web page, I really (really really) hope that you'll take a moment to SUBSCRIBE TO MY NEWSLETTER right now. This will get you two things:

A monthly newsletter from my very fingers, giving you the latest updates and inside peek into my journey toward the release of GATHERING STORM (as well as heads up on all the milestones/giveaways/etc.). Monthly, as in once a month. In other words, I WON'T ANNOY YOU.

A FREE AUDIOBOOK written and narrated by me. Because I want you to have it. And also, well, it's my first audiobook (I mean, I've sung a jillion times, but READING WORDS IS VERY DIFFERENT), and your feedback would be invaluable.

THING TWO: I'd like to include you on my WALL OF COLLEAGUES. Basically, I'm compiling a list of everyone who has been a part of this blog community, whether for a week or a decade (10 years this April!), so I can publicly acknowledge everyone who has been a part of my journey. If you'd like to be included in this list, PLEASE EMAIL ME THE FOLLOWING:

Your name (full name or first name/last initial, followed by the SCREEN NAME YOU USE HERE

Your Twitter handle (if you have one; if not, no worries)

Writing since (the year you started writing)

Following the blog since (the year you started following this blog)

Your genre

That's it! I'll be working on this over the next few weeks, so PLEASE HELP SPREAD THE WORD! Send the above info to me at facelesswords@gmail.com.

IMPORTANT: Please put WALL OF COLLEAGUES in the subject line.

THING THREE: We're having a SECRET AGENT CONTEST in a few weeks! Early info will post on Monday, February 26, and submissions will open on Monday, March 5. KEEP A SHARP EYE ON THE BLOG/TWITTER/FACEBOOK!

And there you have it! Three happy things. Hope your weekend is full of happy, too!

Friday, February 9, 2018

So yesterday I sent out my first author newsletter (go subscribe so you don't miss the next one!), and I spent an awful lot of time checking stats. As in, how many were delivered (100%). How many people opened it. How many people clicked on links (like for the FREE copy of Agent: Demystified).

I think I'm a stats geek.

It's been a long time since I've done something like this. Eons ago, I published a weekly newsletter called MOMMY! The Internet Lifeline for Stay-at-Home Moms. This was back before the days of Mailchimp and moron-proof email campaigns, and I really was that person who accidentally sent out the newsletter one week with everyone's email address visible.

Oy. It's so much easier now.

I guess you could call that my "first life" as a writer. I had a burning desire to offer support to other moms-at-home (working or not), and writing has always been a Thing I Do, so it just sort of came together. Along with the newsletter, I also provided an online forum for these moms. The coolest thing? Today, all these years later, there are about 15 of us who are still connected. We've got a private Facebook group where we still feel safe sharing absolutely anything.

Unexpected pregnancies. Verbally abusive husbands. Lyme disease. Miscarriage. Cancer. The death of a grown daughter. Widowhood. We've walked through it all together, connected by hearts and words.

We've laughed a lot, too. Pee-in-your-pants belly laughter that makes your family members nervous for your sanity. I love these ladies--and I've only met 4 of them in person.

Hearts. Words. Lives.

I also wrote this:

I let it go out of print a few years ago, and I've got exactly 4 copies in my house. Honestly, I can't bear to read it. My writing style has matured so much that, well, I sort of cringe a little when I flip open the pages.

I've always loved the cover, though. And the title? My then-four-year-old daughter actually said that to me one day at the table. "Mommy, my lima beans are allergic to my spoon." (Because lima beans.) How could I not make that into a book title?

In all its imperfection, though, it touched people's hearts. Encouraged them. Made them laugh. Gave them the "you're not alone" feeling that was my intent all along.

So there's that.

Hearts. Words. Lives.

And then there's us--this lovely, diverse, bursting-with-words group of people, most of whom have never met face-to-face. We share our journeys and our hearts, and we offer what we can to our fellow writers. We learn, we grow, we cheer each other on.

You know how much I love being part of this community of writers, because I say it all the time. Isn't it wonderful to be able to use WORDS to connect, to support, to congratulate, to instruct, to love? We are blessed, indeed, that what we do (write) is also how we reach out. And I wouldn't trade this connection for anything.

Thanks for being you! May your weekend be filled with words and loved ones and an incredible sense of knowing that, in the grand scheme of things, you matter.

Wednesday, February 7, 2018

I'm excited to announce that the first issue of my author newsletter will be going out TOMORROW (Thursday)!

If you haven't already subscribed (and huge thanks to those who already have!), please do take a moment to sign up now, so you don't miss a single issue.

All subscribers will receive A FREE AUDIOBOOK of THE WISHING SEED, a fairytale in verse written and narrated by me.

(Seriously. You wouldn't pass up the opportunity to hear me NARRATE, would you? I honestly don't know how people do entire novels. Because it's like this tiny corner of your brain is just WAITING for you to stumble over a word!)

Thursday, February 1, 2018

Kisses are trickier than you may think. Too many adjectives and we might roll our eyes instead of savoring the moment. Not enough build-up and we might miss the moment altogether. There's a delicate balance...coupled with personal taste. (See what I did there?). So enjoy the kisses--and see if you can help your colleagues make them even better!

“Sorry, it seems it’s all I ever talk about. I shouldn’t dump it all on you.”

“Why are you apologizing? I want to help, Lexi.” His jaw muscle pulses. He takes a step closer.

“You’ve already done so much.” I look him in the eye and hold his gaze. He’s so close, his eyes an ocean of endless green.

My heart is like a ticking time bomb, a spark about to ignite into a firestorm. Joe leans close and takes my face in his hands. His peppermint scented breath is warm on my face as he parts my lips with his. I close my eyes and kiss him back, a soft, gentle kiss that slowly deepens. He brushes my cheek with his thumb as his other arm winds around my waist tugging me to him, against the warmth of him. I place my hands on his sweatshirt and feel his heart thrum in his chest. He tastes so good, a mix of salt, soap and peppermint rushing through my veins, through every cell. This is so good, so right. I don’t want to stop.But I do.

Because I feel like a fraud, keeping my secret from him. He thinks I have it all together. He has no clue how messed up I am, addicted to the little knife in my pocket. Will he still want to kiss me when he discovers the truth? My head spins. I draw in a sharp gulp of air and jerk back.
Joe’s eyes widen. “Lexi, what’s wrong?”

After a huge fight with her sister, Riley has driven to Hall’s apartment, where she’s taken out her anger on him. When she’s calmed down he wants her to talk, but she’s not sure she can trust him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” His eyes are gentle and probing and I almost say yes.

“Not really.”

“Of course not,” he mumbles.

My body buzzes with irritation.

“What does that mean?”

He sits back with his lanky legs stretched out before him.

“Just more of the same from you.”

“So what? You want all the juicy details?”

I sink into the cushion behind me and am suddenly, acutely aware of the negative space between us. His head, leaned against the back of the couch, rolls towards me.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” he whispers, and almost imperceptibly tugs at the hem of my jeans.

“That makes two of us,” I say.

When his eyes meet mine I can hardly remember myself. Little flecks of gray float near his irises, like foam caps in a green sea. This time when he pulls gently on my jeans I release my legs and let them fall towards him. His hand brushes the top of my arm and before I can push back he’s pulling me close, his lips pressing softly into mine. I move into the arc of his body and for a moment I disappear in his warmth. For a moment I melt under his soft touch, his gentle kisses. For a moment I let go.

Soccer prodigy Lexi tore her ACL and, many months later, still struggles to return to form. Friend and freestyle partner Brasil gets her to play a very high-stakes game of soccer and she finally, finally, scores a goal.

I’m so giddy I can’t stop giggling. Brasil laughs too, his hands around my waist, holding me so long I realize I should probably get down. But I don’t want to get down. As Brasil’s hands migrate lower, as our laughter fades to silence, I don’t think he wants me to get down either. He hitches me closer with one hand while his other strokes my cheek, then traces a path to my ear, outlines a lobe, goes back to my chin. A heavy swallow passes over his Adam’s apple. His gaze intensifies. My breathing shallows. Our smiles fade into something softer, more hesitant.

I’m done being hesitant about any of this.

I press my lips to his. He kisses me back, fully and firmly, with an intensity, a longing I’m not quite prepared for. His breath is a heady mix of coconut and vanilla. I taste it on his lips, his tongue. And those hands, those rough, callused hands that I’ve longed to have touch me, travel everywhere. I tighten my legs around his waist as he clutches the back of my neck; his other hand runs up and down my back, my sides, so, so close to the front of my sports bra, like he’s never going to be able to do this again. Those hands continue to roam, even when we break apart. I’m breathless, a little dizzy, and even more giddy than before.

Charlotte is being stalked by someone claiming to be her dead boyfriend. Nate has been helping her try to find out who it is. Charlotte isn't sure if Nate is just a nice guy or if he actually likes her. They have just arrived at a school dance together.
Maybe I’d misinterpreted what tonight meant. Maybe he was going to tell me that he just wanted to be friends, that it didn’t mean anything that we were here together.

I waited, wanting him to just get it over with. When the song ended, he shifted in his seat so he was facing me. “I’m sure you’ve already figured this out, but I really like you.”

Nate grinned, then the grin faded, and he leaned toward me. I shifted in my seat, leaning toward him. He put his hand on the side of my face, and together, we closed that last inch. His lips were warm and soft, and the butterflies in my stomach were so agitated that they almost felt uncomfortable.

He kissed me as if he wasn’t thinking of anything but me. He kissed me as if he couldn’t get enough of me. I couldn’t get enough of him. It felt dangerous and real and too good to be true. There wasn’t enough air in the car, but I didn’t need to breathe ever again. Everything felt too warm, as if we might burst into flames.

When we broke the kiss and sat back slightly, I couldn’t help grinning like an idiot, the same grin that was on Nate’s face. “This is the best dance ever,” Nate said, then laughed.

Evren and Sa'av faced the villain together and Sa'av was hurt. Things are coming to a head.

His sapphire eyes were dilated, his breathing shallow. "What happened?"

"They pierced me. In the chest."

Evren swore under her breath as he lifted the torn tunic and she saw the wound pooling with blood and liquid.

"Will you let me?"

His eyes flickered up towards her, hazy with pain. "Please, Evren."

Swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat, she kneeled down, the violet silk pooling around her. The tightness in her chest wouldn't leave. This was goodbye.

Tipping her head down so he wouldn't see the tears, she went to work, binding the wound. He inhaled sharply when her hands touched his waist. Glancing up, she opened her mouth to apologize for hurting him.

But was surprised when his mocha hand came to her chin and tipped her towards him.

Their lips met together and a volcano of heat flushed around her face down her neck. Evren bit his bottom lip gently, her eyes fluttering closed. Heat swarmed other places of her body and she pressed into his chest, careful to avoid his cut.

Tipping her face away from his searching lips, she rested her face in the nape of his neck.

"Evren," His tone was hoarse, "Please - "

"I have to leave, Sa'av."

She felt him slump down, his body quaking with disappointment. Tears threatened to slip down her cheeks. Biting down hard on her lip, Evren leaned back so he could see her face. The orange and violet dust particles continued to fall around them. They were in their own messed up fairytale world for that moment.

Pearl has killed Betty’s abusive ex-husband, worried that he knew they switched the baby of a famous actress with another. When Brandon (a Private Investigator with a crush on Betty) arrives and starts pounding on the door asking if Betty is okay, Pearl tells Betty to get rid of him.

“Betty, don’t —”

I pulled him down by the lapels, stood on my tiptoes and brought my mouth to his. I felt his body tense for half a second, then his arms were around me. I kissed him hard, hungrily, letting all the emotion of the day empty from my body into his. I felt him respond to me, felt the muscles in his body tense. He kissed me back. His effort matched mine and then surpassed it. For that moment in time, all thoughts of babies and actresses and dead husbands disappeared. There was only the two of us, fusing into one.

After what must have been minutes, I reluctantly pulled away. My arms were wrapped around Brandon’s neck, something I didn’t remember doing. His hot breath heated my face as he brought his forehead down to touch mine. Part of me didn’t want to move, but Pearl’s last order stuck in my brain. Get him out of here.
“Get me out of here.” My hands moved down to his chest and found his heartbeat. It raced almost as fast as mine. “Let’s go. Anywhere. Just not here.”

He didn’t let go of me, but I saw his eyes move back to the front door. I tilted my head up and kissed him again. Gently this time, just for a moment.

13th century, Scotland. Gwyn is a Nord-Ancients woman who's been kidnapped from the isles and forced to wed Simon (a Scotsman) in a revenge plot against Gwyn's father. She refused to show up in the wedding chapel, so Simon's father brought the priest up to her bedchamber. Accepting her fate, she consents to the union:

The priest cleared his throat. “Wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love him, submit to him, honor and keep him, so long as you both shall live?”

Gwyn paused. Simon’s vows had lacked submit.

Simon’s father Alroy coughed.

Her groom’s eyes never left hers. They were as vast as the sea.

Her whispered words caught in her throat. “I will.”

It was done.

“Our help is in the Lord, who made heaven and earth,” the nasally priest said, taking both of their hands into his cold ones. “Blessed be this union.”

Simon bent down to her level, turned his head to the side, and planted a soft kiss on her lips. She leaned ever so slightly in and allowed her own lips to meet his. She had never tasted a man’s lips before, and it was the briefest of moments. She’d expected ale or perhaps pungent cider, but as she pulled back and he released her hands, all the taste that remained with her was of fear.

And not just her own.

Simon turned on his heel and left without another word. His father followed, brimming with satisfaction, and lastly, the priest slinked away.

Once again, she was alone in her room. Alone on her wedding night, a Nord woman the new lady of Eilean Donan.

Will is a former child prodigy and a current professor at MIT with growing feelings for his PhD student, Elise. Elise is in her final semester and has had her eye on Will for a long time. She's just given him a thoughtful Christmas gift and, not having planned on a gift exchange, he has nothing for her. He's all apologies. She silences him with a kiss.

Without warning, Elise leaned in and placed her lips upon mine, their softness momentarily stunning me. I reacted the only way I knew how. I leaned forward and kissed her back the way her professor most certainly should not. In over my head, I pulled her to me without further thought of right or wrong. I drank in her scent, her taste, every inch of her I could claim in some way.

She had initiated it, but I found myself turning the tables, pinning her to the door in our heated exchange, one hand seeking her cheek as the other pressed against her lower back, pulling her tighter to me. My tongue danced across her lips, still tasting of her last glass of Riesling, and she responded by sinking closer, demanding more. I had been stupid to think that my growing attraction to Elise wouldn’t end in disaster.

In a rush of emotion, Elise finally broke the kiss. Her glassy, dark eyes were filled with something I couldn’t identify. Warning? Regret? Satisfaction? Even assaulted by guilt, there wasn’t a single part of me that didn’t want more. Had I been invited, I would have followed her into the apartment and into her bedroom without a second thought. God, she tasted as good as she smelled.

James. I shut my eyes. Jesus, Will. What were you thinking? A moment like that…
And my first thoughts were about her goddamn boyfriend?